


Dangerous Waters

by arouria



Series: Little Things [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Timeskip, i love them so much help, in which adrien and marinette are fools with hearts of gold, relationship progression, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arouria/pseuds/arouria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're coming dangerously close to conclusions we shouldn't."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, Chat kinda suggests a sorta maybe not-date and Marinette promptly loses her shit for the next day and a half.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Waters

**Author's Note:**

> i got my shit together and finally registered for an ao3 account, basically just because i am completely obsessed with miraculous ladybug and need an outlet so bad oh man please save me from these two they will be the end of me for sure help
> 
> anyways, here's (the really horribly short) part one of a sort-kinda-not-ish drabble series that doesn't really qualify as a drabble by the third installment.
> 
> i also have no idea how to use ao3 so here's to me winging it and hoping i don't royally screw myself in the process!!! enjoy friends !!!!

 

> _"She supposes it really should have been some completely life-altering revolution, he thinks that they’d probably known all along."_
> 
>  

 

When Chat first proposes the idea, Marinette is skeptical.  

It wasn’t that it was a particularly bad idea. In fact it was probably one of Chat’s better ideas, considering that he’d once suggested that soy sauce would make an excellent pizza topping (he was wrong), and thought that _ambushing_ an akuma who was the literal embodiment of a _GPS tracking system_ was a good plan (it wasn’t).  

No, in fact, for once, her skepticism hardly had anything to do with Chat at all, because the huge, gaping flaw in Chat’s idea was _her_.

Because while celebrating the anniversary of becoming kickass crime-fighting superhero partners with Chat sounded awesome and exciting (anything with him there was always absolutely exhilarating), she knows she’s treading dangerous waters.

And she wonders how she can possibly go about trying to put into words whats going on in her heart.

How does she explain that if she keeps finding out more about him, things like how his favorite color is the same blue that’s in her eyes, or how his favorite time of day is the peak of midnight, when he’s free to roam with her amongst the city lights, that he starts to become so painfully _human_ to her?

How does she explain that she’s starting to fall in love with the one person she’d promised herself she wouldn’t? 

And so she's skeptical. Of risking it. Of finding herself in too deep.

But Chat, damn him to hell, looks at her like she puts stars in the sky, like she’s the only reason the world keeps spinning, and it’s just so damn _hard_ to say no eyes like that.

So by the fifth time he brings up the idea she caves and Chat is ecstatic and _she is so screwed_.

“Marinette?”

Oh. And then there’s _him_.

She quickly lifts her head off her desk, only to meet a pair of curious green eyes and a smile that could probably singlehandedly power all of Paris for the next year and a half. 

“Hey, Adrien.” Marrinette mumbles sleepily before offering the boy a grin that he thinks could rival the freaking _sun_.

“Long night?” Adrien quips in return, and Marinette lets out an airy laugh as she props her head up in the palm of her hand.

“Oh you have _no_ idea.” She wasn’t exactly exaggerating either. There had been not one, not two, but _three_ akuma attacks last night, a new record in Marinette’s ever expanding book of weird. Nevertheless, the night had taken a lot out of her and Chat, and she was already borderline comatose from exhaustion.  

“Try me.” Adrien grins, and Marinette feels the instinctual urge to wack him. She settles on sticking her tongue out at him instead and the duo’s laughter echoes through the hallways as their classmates begin to file in around them.

_When did talking to him start being this easy?_ She wonders as he leaves to take his seat in the row infront of her.

He’s changed a lot in the year they’ve known each other, she thinks. Where she once saw quiet reservation and an air of loneliness she now sees laughter and quick-witted jokes and thousand watt grins. As it turns out, the boy she’d once thought embodied perfection actually sucked at monopoly and couldn’t properly operate a dishwasher to save his life. It was a wild kind of transformation, almost like they’d been chipping away at a mask he’d worn, slowly reveling the true nature of the boy underneath.

She wonders if she can pinpoint the moment when he stopped being so _perfect_ and started to become more of a _person._ Probably around the same time she started to notice all the little things, favorite colors and times of day, how he stares at the stars when he thinks nobody’s watching. 

He reminds her of somebody else she knows. 

The teacher walks in just in time and she throws the breaks down on that particular train of thought before it can take her places she probably shouldn’t go.

But there’s a familiar feeling ghosting at the back of her mind, a flaw in her logic, a hitch in her plan. And she’s taking on water faster then she can find excuses to patch the holes in her conscious, the deeper she gets, the more dangerous it becomes. 

And worst of all?

The more she wants it to be true.

 


End file.
